


Proposition

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Negan/Olivia fics [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Negan offers Oliva a deal that is too good to pass up, but she’s unsure of whether or not she should take it.





	Proposition

Negan was back a week after he killed Spencer as if nothing had happened. Little did he know that Alexandria was on the brink of war, but they still needed more time. Not only did their shelves need restocking, but they needed guns, and they were still working on negotiations with the two newest groups: the Scavengers and Oceanside. In the meantime, though, they would continue to appease Negan, to bow their heads and bite their tongues as if nothing had changed.

For Olivia, though, that was so damn hard. After having slapped him once, that’s all she wanted now. To slap him and drag him by the ear and force him to stop before anyone else had to die. And maybe, if that led to other things – biting, bloody kisses and handprints on his ass, bruises sucked into his neck and pressed on his thighs – then that was more than okay with her.

Even before he had hit on her, Olivia though he was attractive. He knew he was attractive, too, which made him even more dangerous than he already was. Olivia wanted him; but she knew that it couldn’t happen.

Yet here he was, in her pantry. It was just the two of them, he told his men to take a fucking walk while he discussed things with her. He had yet to say anything, though, and Olivia kept her eyes trained on the floor. She was waiting. Waiting for retribution for the slap, for blame for the low stock shelves, for some cutting comment about her weight or how ugly she was.

But none of that came. Instead, Negan said in a voice as smooth as dark chocolate, “Come on, Olivia, why don’t you look up and fucking talk to me. I’m not here to take any of your fucking meager-ass stock.”

Olivia’s head snapped up and all thoughts of holding her tongue and appearing meek and mild went out the window. “Then why are you here?” she asked him accusingly, hotly, already breathing heavily.

Negan was much closer than she thought. So close that she could see the smile lines around his eyes and the flecks of gold in the hazel of them. Too close, too beautiful, but so cruel, she reminded herself. “Well, fuck, I just came to see if you guys were fucking slacking off. See if I have to light another fire under your fucking fine ass.”

She was so distracted by his face, she didn’t see his hand move until it was already snaked around her waist, tugging her up against him. Rather than going rigid, Olivia went pliant and allowed herself to be pressed against him, unsure where to place her hands so they hovered uselessly. Thankfully, Olivia only squeaked once, but he didn’t comment on it except for a general smug expression that made her overly warm and maybe just the tiniest bit wet.

“Besides, I have a proposition for you, Olivia,” he practically purred. Negan brought his other hand up to her face, smoothing his fingertips over her cheek. His thumb traced over her bottom lip, teasing, and Olivia wanted it. She had wanted him since she first put on the bravados when she saw him. She still wanted him even when she saw him gut Spencer. But she shouldn’t.

Pulling away, Olivia ducked her head again. This wouldn’t end well. Even if all he wanted was a quick fuck – and she still wasn’t even sure if he sincerely wanted that – if the other Alexandrians found out… It wasn’t something she wanted to imagine. Rosita would probably kill her for it.

Negan clicked his tongue at her. “That’s fine, baby. I can wait.” Suspicious, she glanced up at him and he held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t mind the fucking chase. Or just your fucking company. You don’t mind me fucking coming around to see you, huh, baby?”

Indignant at his pigheadedness, Olivia curled her lip and pushed hard at his chest. She only succeeded in putting space between them, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he slipped his hand in the back pocket of her jeans, just resting it there. Her arms shook, tempted to slap him again, but she settled for a frown as she glared up at him through her glasses, nose high and haughty. “What do you want from me?”

He lit up like a roman candle. “There’s that fucking spitfire I saw a sneak peak of last week! Now don’t get me wrong, big girl, I like them mousy. It’s cute to watch squeakers like that get all riled up and loud and dirty when I drive inside them and hear them, well, fucking squeak. But people with hard eyes,” he tilted his head, staring deep with heat in his hazel eyes that weren’t so hard, though she could feel where he was hard elsewhere and insistently pressing against her thigh.

“People with hard eyes,” he repeated after trailing off, “matched with softness, “and the hand on her rear squeezed causing her to jump against him hard, closing the space she made. “Those are hard to find these days.” Gently, he started to sway their bodies side to side. He pulled her ponytail free until her hair was hanging loose about her face before he tucked it behind her ears.

Olivia didn’t know what to make of this. Of all the things he could’ve done this… tenderness wasn’t something she was prepared for from him. Ignoring the firmness of his chest underneath her palms, Olivia kept her tone firm. “You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

Negan made a funny noise in the back of his throat as he shook his head. “No, I fucking did not.” Ducking his head toward her, Negan brushed his lips over her forehead in a barely there kiss before pulling back just enough to gage her reaction. He must’ve liked what he saw, because then he continued with his offer, “I want you, Olivia.”

Blinking owlishly at him, Olivia said the first thing that came to mind, “I’m not going to marry you. Carl told us about them, your wives. I don’t want to do that, I can’t.”

“Did Carl tell you that those women are with me because I give them what they need – whatever they need? Doesn’t even have to be my dick. They want protection, someone to care about them, someone to get them pretty things and keep their hands baby-smooth.” His freehand clutched at one of hers on his chest, and he ran his thumb over her palms. There were a few callouses there, but not many. Still, those callouses weren’t there before.

Slowly, her brain processed his words, slow because she was trying to be cautious but also slow because it was hard to think when he was pressed against her. His hand was warm, a little rough, but electrifying. This close to him she could smell him, too. He smelled clean, like hair gel, and masculine like pine. “So, no sex?”

Sucking in a deep breath, Negan tilted his chin up. “If that’s what you fucking want. But I’ll bring you things. Fucking chocolate. Lacy things, silky things, either just for you or a secret between us two. Dresses. Jewelry. New shoes better than those ratty sneakers.” Playfully, he wrinkled his nose at her, and Olivia thought it was so damn cute. “You got a particular fucking thing you want but can’t seem to fucking find? I’ll get it just for you, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles; he still hadn’t let her hand go. “Maybe something a little naughtier? Say… a fucking vibrator, a paddle, some rope, fuzzy handcuffs, bubblegum flavored fucking lube, princess plug. You want it, you got it, baby.”

Shaking her head, Olivia tried not to let what he was saying get to her. A vibrator sounded like an extreme luxury that she missed. Focus! “I still don’t understand what you get out of this if not sex.”

“You,” he said, voice low and deep and gravelly. Olivia could feel it with the heat pooling in her stomach. His gaze was intense, so much so she could’ve forgotten to breathe.

Still, something righteous and decidedly feminine reared its ugly head inside Olivia. “You don’t own me.”

Rocking back on his heels, Negan sing-songed, “Technically, everyone in little ol’ Alexandria fucking belongs to me, big girl.” He quickly changed his tune when he saw the look on her face, though. “But that’s not what I fucking meant, Olivia. I just want you. You don’t have to fuck me, suck me, kiss me… just sing me a song. Tell me some fucking cornball joke. Talk to me. Maybe smile? I don’t know. All I do know is that I fucking want you. I’ll take whatever I can fucking get.”

“If I say yes,” Olivia began, “can we maybe cut a deal for Alexandria?”

“Hmm,” Negan hummed, “I knew that your big fucking heart would want something like that. We’d have to have a little negotiation. See what’s fucking fair about that, big girl.”

Turning her face away, Olivia knew that she had to give in. This could be an opening for Alexandria to get what they needed. But also… also she just wanted to be selfish. Why couldn’t she just do this for her? To enjoy this while it lasts.

While she considered, Negan rocked against her gently, moving their hips in a slow and easy circle as he hummed to himself, staring at her. Holding up her hand and keeping his hand in her back pocket, Negan started to lazily mimic dancing with her in place. She turned back to look at him, confused at first but then charmed.

“What is that you’re humming?” She asked, genuinely curious at she looked up at him again.

Chuckling softly, he dipped his mouth close to her ear, his short stubble scraping pleasantly over her plump, reddened cheek. “And I guess that’s why they call it the blues. Time on my hands could be time spent with you. Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder under the covers…” Trailing off, he pulled back again, his mouth curled into a gentle and uncruel smile. Soft hazel eyes wrinkled with smile lines looked at her tenderly. “You make your decision, big girl, or do you need a little fucking more time to decide?”

This. This was what she wanted. She deserved this. “I hate red roses,” she declared to him cryptically.

Tilting his head, Negan gazed at her freely for one long moment. “I can get you some flowers: white or yellow?” he finally drawled.

“Either is fine. How much?”

“Let’s say,” an impish look crossed his face and he licked his lips. “A kiss for a rose?”

Rolling her eyes, Olivia corrected him, “It’s called A Kiss from a Rose. Not even the same song.”

“Fuck, baby, are you gonna ride my dick as hard as you’re riding it now?” He complained with hapless, sappy smile.

Reaching up her free hand, Olivia firmly grasped his chin. “We’ll just have to see about that.” She pulled him down for a kiss, and it was warm, sizzling across her nerve ending. This was exactly what she wanted, what she needed; and Negan would provide.


End file.
